Holiday commentfic
MASTERPOST:
READ ALL THE FICTION
FILLS:
Sam/Dean have amnesia and the rest is wincestory. for mdlaw
Becky helps Sam and Dean, and in return demands that Sam has to play her bf. Dean doesn't like it. at all. for cristo-nara
♥ a little expansion on the last scene of A Very Supernatural Christmas for lavishsqualor
Death crashes the Singer-Winchester Christmas party. for peachpai
( Read more... )
READ ALL THE FICTION
FILLS:
Sam/Dean have amnesia and the rest is wincestory. for mdlaw
Becky helps Sam and Dean, and in return demands that Sam has to play her bf. Dean doesn't like it. at all. for cristo-nara
♥ a little expansion on the last scene of A Very Supernatural Christmas for lavishsqualor
Death crashes the Singer-Winchester Christmas party. for peachpai
( Read more... )
Sam and Dean are both in a mood where everything the other says makes them grin. And anything Bobby says makes them grin at each other like their humor is a special secret and too funny to let anyone else in on. Dean flips the burgers as Sam spears tomatoes and hunks of zucchini on skewers.
"How are the dogs?" Bobby yells from the cabin.
"They've rolled over," Dean yells back, and Sam snickers behind a hand.
Then, Death arrives.
“Holy-” Sam whirls with the skewer, but then his grip slackens when he sees who it is. Which is kind of messed up, but, then, this is their lives.
Death goes to settle at the picnic table like he belongs. He has two, colorful presents which he places on the table and sticks his hand into the bag of sour cream and onion potato chips. He puts chips in his mouth, one by one, crunching with distant intent.
“You boys-” Bobby pulls to a stop in the backdoor. “Oh. Hello, Death. What's with the gift wrapping?”
Death eats another chip. "This is a holiday party, is it not? I believe it's customary to exchange gifts? Sam, this is for you."
Sam hesitates and then sits across from Death. Death nudges a box toward him which is done up in purple wrapping paper and a festoonment of ribbon. "Ah. Thank you. sir."
"Well, open it."
Sam breaks the tape on both sides and slides the box out of the paper.
"Oh,” he says, uncertainty written all over his face.“A lego set."
Death sits back, looking pleased. "I told you, one wall per customer. But that doesn't mean you can do nothing. There's always a chance to build it back up yourself. I thought that might amuse you."
Sam smiles tightly, and Death addresses Bobby.
"Bobby Singer. Your gift isn't an 'it', it's a 'he'." He glances over his left should and Crowley appears, looking momentarily confused.
Dean laughs. "I'm not sure you get the concept of 'present.'" Death arches an eyebrow and Dean puts up his hands. "I'm just saying."
Crowley spins in a slow circle, and then acknowledges them each in turn in the tones of one taking it all in stride. "Death, boys...Robert. I thought my gift had already been delivered this year - over a hundred large, one hundred souls delivered fresh this morning."
"That was business," says Death. "This, here, is your gift."
Crowley almost smiles. "Am I to understand you're giving me a day off?"
"It would seem so. Don't. Waste it."
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The final present on the table is wrapped in red paper with a yellow bow.
"The color combination reminded me of Burger King," Death says. Dean swallows. Death taps the box with his cane. "Aren't you going to see what's inside?"
Dean rips off the paper and then cracks open the box, which is a jewelry box, it so happens. Inside...well. Inside is a ring.
He stares into the box. “I don't know whether to be honored or freaked out.”
“I remember how much you enjoyed your little foray into my line of business,” Death tells him. “This one's not quite the same, but it's bound to be interesting.”
"Well, that's not scary at all,” Dean croaks out.
“It's quite valuable, Dean. Most people would be gracious.”
Dean closes the box and puts it in his pocket. “I mean, great, it-it's really something. Thanks, Death."
Death looks pleased. "Yes, well. I thought you'd enjoy that."
The table is quiet. Crowley joins them. They eat.
Death and Crowley make what they might think to be polite mealtime conversation, but really it's all ominous and sends Sam and Dean, and probably Bobby's, skin crawling.
“The souls I sent this morning,” Death tells Crowley around a bite of hotdog. “I trust they were to your liking.”
Crowley swirls his drink and smiles. “As much as one could go in for a rag tag group of murders and adulterers, yes.”
The mountain road is almost snowed in by the time they finish lunch, but Crowley makes a booze run and returns with good scotch that he puts calmly at Bobby's elbow. It has Bobby tugging at his hat and muttering something embarrassed and pleased, and Sam is squinting between the two of them. Dean just says lunch was good and grabs Sam by the collar to go shovel off the porch.
Death hangs around until a reasonable hour, just as the light is dying, and thankfully doesn't ask to crash on the couch or anything. The whole thing leaves them with a bad taste in their mouth but a feeling of freaky comradery, Bobby inexplicably alive, Sam with legos, and Dean with a ring heavy in the bottom of his duffel. Christmas happens.
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in other news, this is hilarious.
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